A piercing, salt-laden wind greets the disheveled form of a once great knight. The treeline now behind him, Ser Valden treads a treacherous cliffside that towers above the familiar dark ocean. The sky was impossibly dark, yet it was somehow rivaled by the depth of emptiness possessed by the salty void below.

Valden had made his way to the northern side of the region. He was no Ranger, and hardly a navigator, but with this wind clearing the prior day's haze- even Valden could now see the faint glow of Grift's many torches in the distance. Should he keep his pace, the City State of Grift was likely two days away.

Many hours pass, as Valden makes his way inland from the cliffs and the sea they guard before discovering the clear markers of what was clearly once a road. A damp saltiness clung to Valden's beard, leaving his calloused hand wet with the blood of the sea as he stroked it.

Suddenly, erratic torchlight spills out onto the road. Valden halts and let's the scene unfold. Sounds of joy mixed with pain fills the air, as 4 men stumble out from a cave. With their own torchlight illuminating them in the dark, Valden can quickly determine that these men appear to be drunk. Their balance was questionable, and their movements were slurred.

The sounds of pain could not be ignored- these men may be drunk, but were they also suffering in some way? Their staggered movements were bringing them ever closer to Valden's position on the road- their torchlight would illuminate the Knight momentarily. Should he attempt to hide? Or should he attempt to aid the potentially ailing men.

"Fuck."

Valden had made his choice.

As expected, the errant torchlight crawled up Valden's sodden form like a creature without legs propelled only by chaotic spindly arms. The warmth of the torchlight's fire caught Valden off guard, the coldness of the world was suddenly very apparent to him.

Valden now stood illuminated in the middle of the dark road.

The men appear un-phased by the sudden ghostly arrival of a knight in their path. They laugh within ragged clothing and loose fitting skin. They wince as they grip their torches tightly, an ache within manifesting itself through white knuckles. They shamble alongside and onward past Valden.

Valden looks directly into the eyes of the final passer by. He saw something that he had seen before in this young man's eyes.

With Valden hyperfixating on the eye, we zoom in until the eye completely dominates our visible scope. The darkness of the pupil writhes with the same untamed force as the oceans that surround this doomed landmass. As we pull back, we find ourselves retreating from a different man's dark eyes. This man lay upon the forest floor, twitching unnaturally, yet smiling all the way through. It was a sunny day, and rather humid. This was a time when the world still knew sunlight. The smell of warm bark wafted through the air like baked goods fresh out of the oven. We hear a young, but familiar voice raise a question:

"Well, what is it then? Have we lost him?"

A much younger Ser Valden stands above the man. His clean shaven face implied that he lived well, and his teeth mirrored the pristine nature of his nearly immaculate breastplate.

Crouched beside the twitching man, we see a man with shaggy black hair remove his hand from the supposed victim's chest. He looks up at Valden with unearthly green eyes.

"He's infected. That much is clear. I'm not sure with what just yet... hold on...

We watch as this man pulls dried leaves and some small multicolored stones from a well worn leather pouch attached to his belt. He places the stones upon the forehead of the downed man, and gently places the dried leaves upon their lips. The green eyed man closes his eyes and begins muttering in a strange tongue. Valden stood watching, confused by this approach... and just as doubt was about to be crowned, the man on the ground regained a panicked consciousness.

Free the beast, free the beast from within. Leave this vessel, and it return it to the kingdom of light. Libera bestia, libera ab interiori bestia. Relinque hoc vasculo, et redde illud in regnum lucis.

"Valden... Ulysses... wha... AGHHHHHHHH"

From the ears, nostrils, mouth, and even from behind the eyes... dark scaled and slimy worms began to exit the man forcefully. Blood begins to flow from each of these orifices as the devilish invertebrates are exiled from the flesh they just inhabited.

"Come, Valden- help me get him up. He needs a proper healer immediately. Valden... VALDEN!"

We're back now, in the dark. We look upon the still form of Ser Valden. His form silhouetted by the shrinking torchlight on the road behind him. Though his features were indistinguishable in the dark, a heavy sense of memory and regret hung in the air around him.

"We knew what we hunted, but we were unprepared for the price we would pay."

It was time to rest. Valden sat and stared at his goal, the city-state of Grift. Rising slowly, and Silhouetting the city, was an ill omened green moon. The sickly hue that coated the dim rock was subtle, but was signal enough to Valden that something horrible was about to happen. He sat and stared at the moon, and the unearthly green hue washed over him. Suddenly, he felt... hunted.

Valden, under the sickly glow of the moon was unable to properly rest. He lay cold and in a state of discomfort that he could not shake. The moon was an eye, and he felt naked under its glow.

With everything packed up, Valden made for Grift. The old man's bones not creaking or protesting in the slightest, this was a man who was built for endurance in all forms. He craved resolution, and as he shouldered his pack and flail, his yellowed teeth grimaced in defiance of the moon's green eye of judgement.

"You're gonna wanna watch what happens next, you'll see... you'll see you've got me wrong"

As Valden pushed forth down the broken path, his assessment was soon confirmed that the path he now walked was once indeed a proper road. Signs of wagon tracks permanently dug into starved soil became apparent, and Valden knew that he would confidently be able to follow these ghostly tracks to Grift's main gate.

As he traveled, the glow of Grift became obscured as another bout of thick heavy ocean-borne fog settled in across the region. Valden was forced to light a torch in order to see the tracks at his feet, for this fog kept any ambient glow of the world at bay.

Hours pass, and Valden felt that he must be close- close to Grift and close to receiving the guidance he so desperately sought.

The sound of heavy brass bells rang out through the fog before finding Valden's ears, the heavy molecules passing the bell tones along like raindrops down a tree's many leaves before finally reaching the forest floor. As the ringing of the bells became louder, so too did the sounds of panic... and chaos. Valden picked up his pace to a slow run and extinguished his torch. He felt the tension of adrenaline rush through him as he let the sounds of despair be his guide in the deathly fog.

This fog now began to glow, and a yellow-orange wall grew before him. He stopped before this gateway, for he could sense that only pain awaited him on the other side. He clenched his teeth as he drew his shield and flail- and then walked through the foreboding light.

The fog seemed to be repelled by the chaos it shrouded, as the mighty walls of Grift stood before Valden in plain sight, illuminated by burning funeral pyres in the field leading up to the city. The brass bells continued their tolling, shepherding the burning dead of these pyres to the shimmering fields. Surrounding these pyres, were crowds of people wielding weapons that ranged from conventional to improvised.

A robed man's cries cut through the general chaos of the scene as he delivered ill tidings fueled by fear and awe of the one true God, Verhu.

HIS WORDS- HIS IMMORTAL WORDS RING TRUE ONCE MORE. WE WERE TOLD- WE WERE WARNED- THAT DEATH WOULD RIDE A BLOODSTAINED HANDKERCHIEF- THAT WE WOULD ALL EXPEL OUR BLOOD UPON THIS LAND'S NAKED AND STARVED SOIL- SO THAT WE MAY LINE OUR FUTURE GRAVES WITH THE FAMILIARITY OF OUR LIFE'SBLOOD. DO NOT BURN THESE BODIES- DO NOT BURN THOSE AFFLICTED BY THIS GIFT OF FAITH- LET THIS SPREAD- LET IT TAKE US

The robed man was swarmed and and forever silenced by the crowd. The pyres continued to rage, as more bodies were dragged from inside the city walls and thrown atop the burning heaps of flesh.

Another prophesied misery had home to pass.

PSALM 1, VERSE 6: And blood cough shall spread like wildfire across the wastelands of the drought.

Panic and chaos reign supreme. Valden grips his flail, and marches through the burning pyres towards Grift's main gate.